


Of Accents and Horsefaces

by rxs



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Humor, I tend to translate, Romance, The Nile is strong in this one, but I wanted to post this one here, enjoy, first fic, it's an original work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxs/pseuds/rxs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jean isn't attracted to Sasha's incredibly thick (sexy) Scottish accent. Nope, not one bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Accents and Horsefaces

_He loved Mikasa dammit, she was the girl from his dreams—quite literally—and no weird, stupid, attractive, maybe-just-a-little-arousing accent was going to change his mind._

* * *

 

“Whit th’ heel ur ye lookin’ at?”

Those were the words that slapped Jean out of his stupor.

“Dae Ah hae somethin’ oan mah face?”

“…”

_What the hell did she just say?_

Ever since “The Incident” as Jean liked to refer to it in his head, Sasha had stopped trying to hide her native accent, which was good, of course it was. But there were days like today were Jean wished she was a little more considerate of the effect the recent change was having on people. After all, her thick Scottish accent wasn’t helping his sanity.

“What?”

Oh. Perfect. Well done Kirschtein. Make her repeat the damn question when you didn’t even understand shit the first time. Give yourself a pat in the back.

Sasha was…fiddling with her bow as she was found frequently doing nowadays. Come to think ‘bout it there wasn’t much he knew about Sasha, all he knew was…well the generic information everyone else knew, that she loved food—to an unhealthy extent in his opinion, and that she was a damn good sniper.

_And lately that she caused a funny feeling in his lower stomach whenever she started talking—_

But of course Jean ignored it. Or well, he tried to convince himself he wasn’t attracted, nope, not a bit; he loved Mikasa dammit, she was the girl from his dreams—quite literally—and no weird, stupid, attractive, maybe-just-a-little-arousing accent (going around in his mind for weeks, fuck) was going to change his mind.

A troubled smile and a few beats later Sasha got fed up.

“Fine, keep starin’, ye freak.”

Ok scratch that. It was really arousing, was it getting hot in there?

_Fuck. Pull yourself together Kirschtein. Think of Mikasa..Mi-ka-sa, not brown eyes and that pouty little mouth with that accent that gaaah—_

“heil aam starvin’, ye think connie’s finished makin’ dinner?”

That was it.

“FOR WALL MARIA’S SAKE STOP IT WOMAN!”

Startled, Sasha finally turned to look at him and what her eyes encountered could only be deemed as hilarious.

After all, beet red, chest heaving, mouth open, and—upon further inspection, hands twitching, was Jean Kirschtein. And instinct told her she had something to do with that.

“Huh?”

“The accent woman! Will you stop it? I..ack.”

“Ye dornt loch mah accent?” confused and a little offended Sasha started to get up.

But the heat, the annoyance, and the gradually rising arousal that her accent provoked had finally put Jean through the metaphorical last straw.

“OF COURSE I DON’T FUCKING LIKE IT, YOU SOUND DIFFERENT, I BARELY UNDERSTAND YOU HALF OF THE TIME, AND WHY OH MY GOD THAT LITTLE THING YOU DO EVERY TIME YOU FINISH THE SENTENCE FUCK JUST STOP IT, IT’S DRIVING ME NUTS AND YOU LOOK TOO DAMN SEXY WHEN YOU SPEAK SO SHUT UP AND SPEAK NORMALLY YOU POTATO FREAK!”

Done with his rant, he raised his eyes, only to see a smirking Sasha, making way to where he was a naughty glint in her eyes.

_Fuck. Had he just said that out loud?_

“Sae ye dae loch it.”

“Uh…”

Suddenly naïve innocent Sasha was replaced by a naughty (with a goddamn sexy accent) girl, so close Jean swore he could count the freckles in her cheeks.

“Too bad. The accent isn’t going anywhere. So brace yourself, horse face”

Flustered Jean could only watch as the girl pranced back to her bow, picked it up and started walking back to the cabin.

“Aren’t you coming Jean?”

Oh god. Finally she was starting to make sense…

Hold on

…had she just called him…

“Shut up Brauss!”

Said girl only ran back to the cabin laughing all the way.

“Ah dornt want tae!”

Damn it. That accent was going to be the death of him. 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Since I have no Scottish friends I had to rely on the Internet. Forgive my mistakes, and kindly give me some feedback. It is after all, my first published fic. Thank you.


End file.
